Sad Son Pt. 02

She grabs my hand and walks away with me in tow while yelling back at Gail, "Follow me."

We go into the back room, past a few surprised people labeling merchandise. They look like her family. We then exit the place into a hallway. We walk to an elevator and then up a few floors. The industrial door has tape on it that says Charlie's. She doesn't even knock; she barges in. OH MY GOD!

There are about a dozen former porn stars here cutting hair. These women are older, thirty, maybe forty years old. Yet each is gorgeous with a huge rack. I mean, these women make my sisters look flat. Each has a perfect hourglass shape and is dressed in as little material as possible. My jaw is on the floor.

Each customer looks almost as impressive. Their ages range from the twenties to sixties, yet each is hot, well dressed, and another dose of hot.

Lauren asks, "Anyone available for a hard-luck job? I'm paying for this one. I need a guitar player to look like a guitar player."

One of the beauties looks bored, "Another one?"

Lauren looks bashful, "This one is different."

They still don't look impressed.

Lauren smiles as she says, "Where's your iPod that's playing your music?"

The owner hands over her iPod. Lauren uses Bluetooth to copy the files from Gail's phone. All cutting has stopped as they start my solo. A few smile, knowing how hard that is. They have no clue how insanely hard it is to play that song. They soon bore of that and move to the next. This is my sad freestyle song on the acoustic guitar.

The effect is almost instantaneous. The beauticians, customers, Lauren, and even Gail are all in tears when the music plays. They have damn good speakers. The sound is rich, full, and in this case, very sad.

Two women have wet hair but have not started. Lauren pushes me past Charlie, the owner, and over to Savanah. I sit in the chair as its previous holder sits down and closes her eyes as she listens to the music. Savannah walks around in front of me.

Savanah pulls her halter top-down and unfastens her bra as she says with a smile, "Time to pay for the haircut."

She leans forward to me. I lean into her, so it's not too awkward for her. I don't get the same thrill as I do with my sisters. These are un-naturally large and perky. They're still a ton of fun to see, touch, and suck on. They're still breasts, and it's a joy to tease them. I don't grab and mash them like I did as a rookie. I go straight to my song.

It's not really a song as much as riffs, a series of combinations. I repeat these and then move to another series of combinations. Some work well, and others, not so much. By the end of the song, I only get four orgasms. I feel like a failure.

Savanah is still topless as she wets my hair, starts cutting, and says, "In case you haven't noticed, we're all former porn stars. We're too old to act, now we cut hair. Men are off-limits; I was amazed when Lauren brought you here. You're a starving artist from your haircut and clothes, and you are going to Tangiers this weekend. I'm no expert, but I like your second song a lot. It has emotions.

"As far as sucking on nipples, your inexperience shows." That was a kick in the gut; I thought I was great. "It's not that you're without talent; you do the chorus too often. It's cute how you have a theme, but it repeats. I like the pattern; that worked well. However, if you alter the notes, it sounds and feels different, right? In music, you raise an octave, or whatever it is. Maybe everything is harder or lighter, so you retain the same theme.

"I know you tried hard, but honey, I've had my nipples sucked on by gods for decades. I need more. Having said that, no man has ever got four real orgasms out of me doing anything, so that was pretty amazing. You add my experience, and you might kill a young woman. Be careful."

Savannah spent thirty minutes discussing what I did to her and the arousal I created in her. She wants me to fuck her. Gail shot that idea down. While cutting hair, they all gave suggestions. When I say all, I mean the customers as well. I ended up with short hair with lines on one side and a bit longer and parted on the opposite side. I think it looks trendy and impressive.

I get several hugs and kisses before we leave. I impressed porn stars; I am on top of the world right now. Lauren takes me back down to her store, pushes me into a changing room, then leaves me alone. Ten minutes later and she has an armload of clothes for me.

Lauren asks me, "Can you dress yourself?"

I hear Gail outside of my dressing room, "NO!"

Lauren giggles, "Remove the shirt, pants, and shoes."

She doesn't leave the room. She does turn towards the clothes. She has her eye on me as she picks out black slacks and a bright white shirt with... ruffles? I put both on.

She looks at me, "Remove the shirt."

She hands me another button-down white shirt with a tiny collar.

She shakes her head and unbuttons the top two buttons. Looks me over, then reaches down and strokes me a few times. Meanwhile, she is at an angle that I can see straight down her shirt and see her perky tits. They aren't huge. In my family, she's the smallest. She squats down to give me more attention.

While stroking me, she looks up with a big smile, "Just in case you see women flashing you, I need to make sure you don't look like a perv on stage. Women will do that to help their boyfriends look better. They flash, you make mistakes, their boyfriend gets signed, and they go shopping with his money. Be prepared for that. See how it doesn't show that much even though you're large."

She stands up, looks at me again, and says, "Remove the shirt and pants. No. Wait. Show Gail first."

She opens the door, and Gail comes in to see my outfit.

Gail is flabbergasted, "That's awesome. We'll take it."

Lauren isn't pleased; she grabs Gail's arm, causing Gail to look angry. Oh shit, what do I do?

Lauren explains, "We see all kinds of musicians in the two weeks preceding Tangiers. Your brother is cute and can't do grunge or gang. He's too clean-cut for that, no tats. He needs to go for charming and classy, borderline romantic. Middle-age and older don't like the tats; he appeals to most women. They will eat him up.

"No way you wear those two days in a row; that screams trailer trash. I got a light gray pair of pants and a dark gray top. Trust me, this is trendy. Change into these now."

Gail tries to slip out, but Lauren stops her, "You can stay. It won't be the first time you've seen him."

Gail and my eyes both pop out of our heads. How the hell does she know?

She laughs as she says softly, "I can see it in her eyes. She cares for you much more than a sister should. It's OK; I'm not here to judge you. I do want something in return. Number one, you walk out of here, not owing me a cent. Free, on the house." We're both near tears. "Two, when you get money, I want you to shop here. You may feel free to drop our name from time to time. I want to dress you for concerts.

"Last, I want to know what stage and what time he plays on Saturday and Sunday. I know several people performing, and I would like to hear more of him."

Gail reminds her, "There is no guarantee he will even make Sunday. We have no idea what the competition will be like."

Lauren smiles, "I've been going since I was sixteen; that's six years now. There are a lot of talent scouts there."

I have now switched to the other outfit.

She hands me a second gray shirt; this one is darker, "Try this one on. That doesn't work on you."

I just realized she never measured me. She has enough experience to know my size just by looking at me. Amazing.

When I finish, she looks me over. She smiles big.

Lauren says, "Put your other clothes back on. Gail, two doors down, is a shoe store. Ask for Ted, show him the clothes, and he will find you a pair of shoes that will match both outfits. Tell him I referred you. You'll get a thirty percent discount."

When I finish, Lauren grabs the clothes, and we go out front to get a bag. Lauren folds each garment, removes the sales tag, and then places it in a nice two-handled brown bag. An older gentleman is there, watching her closely. She's expecting him to flip out.

As soon as she hands us the bag and says, "Thank you," he gets all gruff, "WAIT! You didn't pay."

Lauren handles it, "Dad, it's OK. Settle down." She stares at him. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Her father isn't happy, "How often have you given away stuff only to never see them again?"

A confident Lauren tells her father, "Look close at his face. Remember him. He will be back."

Gail grabs my hand, and we leave. Just as Lauren said, Ted found us a great pair of shiny black shoes that are perfect. They cost good money, but it's far less than I was prepared to go today.

We get home just as dinner is ready. They're all impressed with my haircut and clothes. That night, I continue my pussy eating, and in the morning, I shower with a different sister. The school knows about the concert, there is an excitement that's been growing all week. Even the football players have been friendly with me since the concert.

Usually, I would be shaking and nervous about the upcoming concert. However, with all the attention from women, students, and teachers at school, plus my naked sisters at home, I am sleeping great and not feeling the pressure.

However, not all is well. Many people show up late. Only Gail can attend my concert, and I got the least favorable time slot of 10:00 to 10:30 AM. Only 9:30 is worse. The afternoon would have been much better.

Saturday, I am up at 5:30 AM so I can shower and have breakfast. It's a two-hour drive, and I don't want to be late. At 6:00 AM, I get a text from Lauren that my time is now 7:00 PM, and rather than the edge of the festival, I will be on the main stage. It also means that I use their amplifiers and only need to bring my guitar. How do I know this isn't fake? Two minutes later, I got an official email repeating the same message.

Gail decides that we can still go up early and listen to others. She spends ten minutes texting other people, and I assume that will spread the word.

The drive up to the festival is silent; we're both deep in thought. Gail is driving and humming some of the songs I might play. She is so adorable.

I break the ice, "I saw you doing a lot of texting this morning. Anyone, I know?"

She smiles at me, "Lauren will be there."

I laugh at her, "No shit Sherlock."

Gail tests me, "I think she likes you."

I not playing this game, "She wants to help her business. If I do well, I will mention her business and buy clothes from her."

Gail corrects me, "Them."

I am confused, "Them?"

Gail continues with a giggle, "Her family owns the place. You will be buying from them."

I turn to giggle, "They may own the place, but I don't want that old man telling me what to wear. Only Lauren gets me into a changing room."

Gail is all smiles, "Oh, so you like her."

I explain reality to my sisters, "I am eighteen and a male in high school. I was attracted to Lauren, the hairstylists, and most of the customers. Hell, I was attracted to most women walking down the street."

Now Gail seems sad, "So we mean nothing to you?"

Yikes, I need to be careful, "When a former porn star reveals a size 38DDD breast to me, I take it and make love to it." This isn't helping so far. "I found something interesting, though. I liked it, but I had more fun with my sisters. It meant more to me. I don't understand that, and I don't know how to figure it out."

Gail is smiling again, "That's easy. Sex with people you love is better. Sex is fun, but it's better when you add the different emotions that a lover provides. I mean, that retired porn star had an amazing body. You had no emotional connection with her. It will never be as good."

When we pull up, the place is crowded, much more than I expected. I check in with the office. They will lock up my guitar until I'm ready. That's so cool. Now we can walk around and listen to others perform. At one, we have a hotdog, onion rings, and a soda. My stomach is a bit nervous from having to perform in front of people.

We listen to a lot of people today on all the stages. I want to get a feel for what people play. There are a bunch of singers, bands, musical instruments from the drums to a violin to a trumpet. Nobody is terrible. The time of day doesn't tell the story well. Some of the best people were early. For the most part, the crowds are half filling the stands. Beyond the stands are areas to sit, lay down on a blanket, anything so you can be close.

At about five, we eat some dinner. I got some fried chicken strips with fries. Gail got a salad. I see kids from school showing up. I get many thumbs-up signs as they walk around, checking out the performers. There are a bunch of hot women here. I see college-age on up to fifties, the MILFs. They each hang out in small groups of three to four.

After dinner, now I'm getting nervous. We get my guitar, and I go backstage where I can tune it. I still have ninety minutes to go. I'm shaking. It's getting harder to breathe. Gail hugs me and kisses me on the lips, quicker than usual since we're in public. That helps me calm down.

I feel hands on my shoulders from behind me; I hear, "Hey there."

Coming around me from both sides are all my sisters. They're all smiling at me.

"I, I, I thought you all had plans," is all I can say.

Andrea speaks for them, "This. This is our plan for the day. Did you really think we would miss this?"

I am near tears because I doubted them. Wait! There are too many.

I look again, and Lauren is with them. She giggles at seeing my recognition.

Emma offers, "Gail hooked us up. I must say, you look great in those clothes. We got to go; we want good seats. See you out there."

We talked about the day and the performers we saw. On the way out, they all kiss me, including Lauren. A shiver ran down my spine as we kissed. Only Gail stays behind with me.

At ten minutes to go, Gail is kicked out, and I am brought to the side of the stage. This band sucks. The guitar player hasn't a clue. The vocals and keyboard were decent. A lot of people watched them, but with only mild interest. I look out into the audience and see Lauren and a guy next to some of my sisters in the front row. I know Gail is in the back, Emma and Becky are on the sides. They want to listen to what the people say and how they react to me.

On the right side, I see a large group from school. Interestingly, it's only 60/40 girls. I expected a higher percentage. They fill half the audience. I see a large group of college-age girls. My sisters called their friends; I hope that's them. Behind them is a large section of retired porn stars. How do I know? They have a poster for me. Damn, there are a bunch of them. The place is overflowing with the rest of the festival people.

My sisters had hoped that a crowd would attract more people. They are so smart; it seems it worked. Knowing that most of these people know me, I feel much better. They won't boo me off the stage.

*****

Gail's point of view:

I can't believe all the fans that are here. Our college friends, Hal's groupies from high school, and the retired porn stars are here. He must have really made an impression on them. I was sad to see Lauren had a boyfriend with her. Hal seemed to like her. On a positive note, that will help him play.

People are still coming in. This place is packed. All the grass is filled in with blankets. It's so cool. I have goose-pimples already. Finally, the last band finished. It's taking time from Hal as they move their equipment. HURRY!

Hal doesn't seem distressed. He's checking the tuning, plugged in the amp, checking the sound. He's never played in a place this big; I hope it doesn't confuse him.

I am along a back wall, and two older men came in next to me. They have suits on, yet I see tattoos on their hands and fingers. Wow, talk about an odd combination. He's scruffy, the tie is loose, yet he's cute. He, he. I caught his attention by hiking up my skirt just a tad. He smiles at me just as Hal starts playing.

Oh yea, Lauren hurt him by bringing a boyfriend. This is the sound from when Michelle broke his heart. Damn him, I'm in tears already. Oh, the pain in his sound hurts. I want to go up there and kiss him and tell him it will be better. This is good; it's getting an emotional response from the people. Too much, and they might leave. I wonder if this is all he does. It's only thirty minutes.

What the hell? He just pointed at the retired porn stars? Has he gone mad? Wow, the music just changed. I've never heard anything like this before. This isn't sad; it's... sensual? Hal? There is a slow melody with feelings, but there is also a knocking on the... something. I know that sound. It's the headboard. When getting fucked in bed, that's the sound of the headboard hitting the wall. How the fuck is he doing that? Then he transitions into more sad stuff.

This isn't a song; this is his life. The highs and lows, back and forth.

The old guy turns to me, "Your brother has potential, but those songs or sounds won't sell."

How does he know who I am?

I use my two fingers to make a loud whistle, then scream, "HAL!"

He stops and looks at me.

I turn to the man, "Give him your suggestion. Don't make it easy; he only knows the hard stuff."

The man snickers and yells out with a rich, deep voice, "Perpetual Burn."

Hal surprises the shit out of me when he speaks into the mic, "This just in from the cheap seats, a request for a song. This isn't just any song. Oh no, he challenged me to play a tough one. Let's see if I can remember a note or two."

Showmanship? On stage? Who is this man? He takes a deep breath and then plays the craziest song ever. I mean, damn, his fingers are all over the place. I see his hand moving up and down the neck of the guitar as fast as I've ever seen. The notes come so quickly it's amazing. After the song finishes, he uses a transition into another hard song, but follows up with a slower song.

I know I've heard it on the radio before; it's old. It's not nearly as fast, but the guitar sings, I mean literally sings. The sounds he produces by plucking a string aren't possible. It's not like he has any gizmo boxes to make cool sounds; that's all him. The next one, "While my guitar gently weeps," is still on the radio. That's one I like a lot.

I look over at the cute man, "He's more than just sad songs."

"So, I've heard. Can he play in a band?" the man asks.

I reply, "He was in the band; now he's in the jazz band."

The man raises an eyebrow, "Jazz?"

I smile, "Yeah. The teacher likes heavy metal. They play much more heavy metal than jazz. Everyone seems happy with that. They tend to play many older songs, from when the teacher was in school."

The man smiles back at me, "Tomorrow, same place, same time. Have him here at 9:00 AM. He will be placed in a band of some type, and they will need to practice. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

He walked out of the area, sliding into the dark night.

Hal does one more song and then is given the sound to wrap it up. He does. He's given a huge ovation for his efforts. He takes off the mic, unplugs the amp, and places the guitar in the case. He's walking off stage as a singer takes the stage. Everyone already knows to meet out by the large tree by the washroom on the west side of the festival. That's basically right behind this stage. Hal will meet us there.

It's twenty minutes before Hal shows up. There is a huge group waiting in the area to hear the results. We all know it's good news as Hal walks up.

He shouts so all can hear, "Same stage, same time, tomorrow. I must be here at nine to practice with others as we've been assembled into a group. It's a test for all of us. They have not decided on the others, but they said I am guaranteed a spot."